


The Scent Of Christmas

by QueenOfSkaro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, F/M, Sweetheart Neville, Yule Ball, underrated Pansy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8480617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfSkaro/pseuds/QueenOfSkaro
Summary: Sometimes all that is needed is someone seeing you for who you really are.And a little Christmas Magic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know this ship isn't everyones cup of tea, but after it came to my mind they wouldn't leave me in peace.
> 
> Disclaimer: They belong to J.K. Rowling. I only borrow them.

Sitting on a white marble bench under the bright moon, amidst a few hundred fairies and roses was probably one of the most romantic scenes she could have imagined for this evening to end on. She was a little more alone than she would have hoped, that was certain, but all in all she was at least alone with a beautiful scenery.

Being optimistic wasn’t her strong feat, so she let the thought leave her quickly, shivering slightly from the cold or the disgusting display of sentimentality. It was of no use, none at all.  
It wouldn’t change the fact that she still wore the horrible pink nightmare of a dress her mother insisted on her wearing, or that her date for the ball had long gone back to the dungeons without caring if she accompanied him or not.

Let’s be honest, it was doomed from the start. It was her mother, of course, it always seemed to be her mother behind every part of her life Pansy didn’t exactly feel comfortable with. Not that it mattered. Draco was the best possible option for marriage and offspring and so Pansy had to do everything in her might to rope him in and win him as a husband. As of now she tried everything she could think of. She always agreed with him, no matter how utterly stupid she thought he was acting – it was a daily occurrence that she thought him a little dense and childish, but then came the situations she had to literally walk away to be able to keep her charade up. Like those Potter-badges. Pansy hated him a little for him making her wear the horrid thing for weeks. He only let up a little after the First Task was over and Potter swayed most of the school back onto his side. The first day she could see herself in the mirror without that ghastly thing pinned to her blouse was a relief.

Hushed giggles could be heard through the bushes to her right and she rolled her eyes to the sky, jealousy bubbling inside her. After all her effort with Draco it just didn’t seem fair for him to ruin her perfect ball night. Of course, she was forced to attend it in an embarrassingly frilly dress, with a companion she only found mildly interesting, sitting at a table with company even worse, but she hadn’t expected anything different than that.  
They even danced for three whole songs, which was somehow enjoyable if she tuned out Dracos incessant complains.

It wasn’t Potter like she expected who aroused his anger – that she could have lived with. She did for over three years already, she knew all the right places she had to nod and agree with him in indignation. Having to listen him talk about the Granger girl of all people grated on her nerves, though. Pansy could never hold his attention as long as the little mudblood and even though he said all those things out of hate, it was still way more than Pansy ever got.

The Slytherin girl hated the other too, it was expected after all, but she still had to give her a little credit for the amazing job she did on her hair. It must have cost her hours to look this great. She even looked kind of pretty, which somehow seemed to anger Draco even more. It was almost tragic how much she played with his head without even the least effort while Pansy never got more than a strained smile and an overzealous pat on her bottom.

Making a wild guess she thought her mother wouldn’t get her wish for a marriage. The worst part about it was that she still had to wear the dress for a whole evening where all the school could see her. The thought almost made her cry, but it took her an hour to get the make-up just right and she wouldn’t disgrace herself like that in public.

More rustling and an ‘Oomph’ later she wasn’t alone anymore, even though she would have liked that better than her new company.  
“What are you doing here?” She snarled out of reflex, her first reaction to everything, just to be on the safe side. A good thing, too, because it was Longbottom who came stumbling into the little niche she was hiding in.  
“Eh-,” he stammered like always, reliable in his inadequacy as her mother was in her disappointment or herself in her inability to meet expectations. It was a truly welcome change for this evening.

“Yes, yes. Whatever. Continue to talk when you’re able to get a straight word out.” She bit out and unintentionally onto her tongue, because she didn’t anticipate the trembling that became apparent as soon as she opened her mouth. Longbottom stared at her for a long moment, probably deciding if he should make a run for it, but instead shedding his suit jacket – an awfully muggle thing – and holding it out.  
“What?” Pansy asked in disbelief. Not only did he not leave when she gave him the nicest chance to escape since they met for the first time and Draco declared him a bumbling idiot – they were six years old then, but it still held true now for the most part – he actually took a step closer and obviously expected her to do something.

“Take it. You look awfully cold.” The boy mumbled, biting his tongue and stumbling over half the words, but as far as she could recall it was the first coherent words she ever heard out of his mouth.  
“This evening is full of surprises.” Her murmur was low and not meant to be picked up, but from the colouring on his cheeks he did. The jacket was still held between them and the longer she waited, the more insecure Longbottom got – and the colder Pansy seemed to get. It was easily overlooked, sitting alone in the dark, stewing in her thoughts, but was glaringly obvious now in her trembling bottom lip and fairly blue-tinged skin.

Pansy took the jacket and, with a smooth motion, draped it over her bare shoulders, dusted with what little snow still fell. The night was mostly clear with only small amounts of fresh snow, but it already lay ankle deep over the grounds and even with higher heels than she was comfortable with walking around on iced stone steps, most of her feet were still buried in whiteness. It was inevitable to come down with a cold by this point.

She buried herself in the jacket that was still warm from being worn recently. After an hour of fresh air, it smelled of pines, dust, candle wax and cinnamon. It smelled so much like Christmas she wanted to unwrap her presents again and eat the hearty meal she had to deny herself tonight because her dress was a little too tight around her middle. It was her mothers’ way of telling her she was getting too fat.

It was impossible to ignore Longbottom standing in front of her, tense and silent and probably a little afraid. He was staring at her with big brown eyes that normally seemed a little dull, a little dense. But now they were vibrant with life and emotions and it was as if they only saw her and – she was already getting ill, there was no other excuse for her obtuse thoughts.  
“If you must stay, at least sit down, for Salazars sake.” The girl grunted in the most unlady-like fashion she could muster. Fuck expectations. Just for a few precious minutes, fuck them all. She was in a Winter-Wonderland with fucking Longbottom. Everything was possible.

He followed her order and sat down quickly on the small bench that, while not being designed for one person, seemed to be suspiciously small when two were sitting on it. His thigh pressed against hers for a fracture of a second before he slid over, half his ass hanging in the air. If she hadn’t bit on her lip maybe she would have smiled about it. At least a little.

“I-eh. I know it’s not my business, but – eh – what are you – I mean, why are you out here? Where’s Malfoy?”, Longbottom asked in his usual stammer, reliable and familiar in an unfamiliar way and comforting in a way it didn’t have any right to be. 

A socially acceptable answer. She couldn’t just blurt out anything, he could blab about it with his Gryffindor-friends. What she needed was a socially acceptable answer that didn’t let on that she’d end up as a spinster with sixteen cats, one of them living under her hat.  
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I mean – it’s. Well. He’s an idiot. For letting you wander around alone. Eh – I mean, you. You.” A great sigh rattled his mostly coherent string of words that had Pansy staring at him wondering where this would end. “Yeah.” It ended with a discouraged slump in his shoulders.

Cute was the word that came to Pansys mind, utterly unbidden and unwelcome and still worming its way into her thoughts and staying put like an annoying little bug.  
“Him being an idiot is not news.” She decided on her answer. Socially acceptable, because even if the boy blabbed on to his friends she would still only be a miffed girlfriend. There were worse things being told about her.

With surprise clearly written across his face the Gryffindor choked out a half-laugh, quelling it as soon as it was out. Pansy had heard it, though and she couldn’t help but marvel a bit. It was the first time this year anyone laughed about anything she said. The last time was in their second year when she made some stupid joke about Granger being a little overeager in her attempt to prove herself worthy of her magical house. Daphne Greengrass had giggled in such a silly way that Pansy stopped trying the funny stick to get Dracos attention.

“Sorry. I know he’s your – eh. Boyfriend. What did he do? To – to make you mad at him?” The reluctance was clear in his voice, but she didn’t know what caused it.  
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She decided to state this clearly in a bout of spite. He wasn’t, really, even though she wished he was for a long, long time. “And I’m mad because he spent the whole evening talking about that Granger girl.” There. She said it. To a Gryffindor, no less. The second it would come back to Draco he would skin her alive. Or tell his father, who would then talk to her mother and her mother would do the skinning. 

“He really is an idiot, then.” Everything did seem possible on a night like this, with someone looking at her as if actually seeing her and not some picture she painted on herself, of a silly girl with shrill giggles and an unhealthy obsession with one of her classmates. He was close. It should be uncomfortable, like it almost always was with everyone else, but it wasn’t. Probably the cold, numbing her.  
“What about your date, then?” Returning the question seemed a safe way, an innocuous way to continue with a conversation she wasn’t allowed to have to begin with. The fact that she did want to continue to talk to him went unquestioned as he blushed a brighter red than the already rosy cheeks the cold caused.

“It wasn’t as much a date as it was her not being able to go to the ball without anyone taking her. I – eh – I didn’t get a real date.” It barely seemed fair, seeing him as embarrassed as he was by this, when Pansy was sure that she would have had a far better evening if he had been her date.  
“Sounds like an idiot to me, too.” She answered with what could be a hint of a smile. Was, really, but she wasn’t used to give out the real thing and wasn’t comfortable with admitting it.

Blush deepening even further on his pale round cheeks his face broke apart in a helpless grin, showing charmingly crooked front teeth forming a little gap. She shouldn’t want to smile back. Maybe the cold wasn’t only numbing her, but making her stupid too. But it was still within the few minutes in which she told all the expectations to go fuck themselves and thus shoved away every nagging thought that would eat away at her later. For now, she tried to let only her real thoughts close, not something she ought to think or like or hate because everyone told her to.

What did Pansy like? A question she hadn’t asked herself for a long while now. The answer came surprisingly easy.  
She didn’t know. Maybe she wouldn’t ever and everything she did at the moment would come back later to bite her nose, but here and then, in this artfully constructed garden just made for couples to hide away, she didn’t know and for once didn’t hate herself for it, because there was a cute boy grinning at her and her alone. And that even though she was wearing this hideous dress.

Another rustle kept her from doing something potentially dangerous and in a split-second decision she took Nevilles hand, standing up in a rush and pulling him into the bushes to get away from prying eyes. Her companion was surprised by that, she was sure of it, but followed obediently, staying right behind her. She wouldn’t question herself now, no matter how irrational her behaviour was. The moment couldn’t end already and she wouldn’t let anyone ruin it before she was ready to do it herself.

Of course it was rose bushes all around them and before long the frilly material of her dress was shredded at the edges. Nevilles jacket kept her arms safe from harm, but a thorn took hold in her cheek and left a scratch. They broke out of the bushes at the other side of the thick wall to a fountain topped with angels singing Christmas tunes in gentle voices. They stood there and listened, calming their breaths. 

The realisation that the past quarter of an hour had been more pleasant than the actual ball, probably even the year as a whole, hit Pansy with force.  
“Dance with me.” She demanded, turning to look at Neville, their hands already joined. Just this one dance, she told herself. Then she would be able to leave this evening behind, because she would have had her romantic ball. Everything else she would have to negotiate with her mind later. For now, she just wanted to have one dance with a boy that smiled when he looked at her, that didn’t talk non-stop about another girl, that didn’t just see her as money with blood pure enough to consider for children.

A hesitant hand on her hip grounded her to the moment, out of her thoughts and back to the snowy garden and her frozen toes. Back to singing angels and a jacket that smelled of Christmas and a boy she shouldn’t want to dance with.  
“I’m – eh. I’m not that good at dancing. I mean – I get nervous and – it’s possible I’ll step on your feet. I’m sorry about that.” Neville said with a self-depreciating smile sitting lop-sided on his lips.  
“I don’t care.” Was her answer, because she didn’t. He was warm and soft and not much taller than her in her heels. He was pudgy, had crooked teeth and was wearing a giant white bow-tie. She let the urge to straighten it overtake her and after she dawdled a few seconds longer than necessary, she put her hands onto his shoulders and returned his surprised gaze.

“I don’t care.” She repeated and as the angels started a new song Neville gave the softest smile she had ever seen, one of those that turned normal girls to mush and thank Salazar she wasn’t one of them, because she wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the moment as it played out, burning it into her memories. He started to dance carefully, afraid to step on her toes, not breaking the gaze.

It felt special in a way she couldn’t describe and while that felt unsatisfying, everything about the moment was the exact opposite of unsatisfactory so she put that thought to the side to examine later. Right now, it was his eyes on her, on her alone, without another girl she had to compete against for his attention. Right then it was his hands on her hip, swaying her to the beat of the song. 

The song ended, and it seemed to go on for longer than usual, as if the little angels had somehow invented a few more verses just to give them a little more time. Still they stood, her in his arms, wrapped in his jacket and his scent and not able to decide on what to think and him not able to form any coherent thoughts that didn’t revolve around her and her alone. But that was alright, he thought. She was worth his full attention.

He kissed her. In retrospect, he couldn’t think of a logical explanation of where he got the courage to lean forward and press a soft peck onto her blue-tinged lips, but he did and at the end of the day it was all that mattered. Well, not all. What mattered more was her returning his kiss, pressing in on him closer, wrapping her delicate arms around his neck, anchoring herself with a hand in his hair. That was what mattered.

His breath fanned warm over her lips, hit her cheek and made her shiver before she leaned in for another kiss. There was very little place for thinking in her head now, all her focus on soft hair in her hands and soft lips against hers and a hot tongue shyly asking for entry. She granted, opened her mouth a little, greeted it with her own and swallowing his groan of delight.

Their need for air was the only reason for them to break apart, breathing heavily, leaning their foreheads against each others, keeping their eyes closed. One hand still fisted in his hair, the other bunching the fabric across his chest, desperately clawing at it to get closer still. His hands slowly loosened the tight grip he had on her small hips.

As their breath mingled between their faces it was like a spell wearing off, fresh snow cooling them down again. Neville kept his eyes closed even as Pansy slowly loosened her fingers and took a step back, quickly missing his touch, but trying to start thinking again. She’d shoved her thoughts so far back she needed a few seconds to get them back. The spell left her fast now.

What she did would likely have consequences, she thought, as she stared at Neville with his eyes still closed, squeezed shut from the look of it, not wanting to see what would come next. The feeling that she should say something mean overcame her, something that would make this an ugly memory for both, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

As she looked at the boy she kissed only a minute ago, her first kiss, the kiss she will remember forever, because it was a good kiss, a kiss that made her feel things she couldn’t work through on a moments notice, would need so much more time to make sense of – as she looked at him she felt sadness settle over her.

Pansy would leave and return to the dungeons, to those she called friends, to a boy only her mother wanted her to marry. And she would return to spite and lies and mean words everyone expected her to spew, when she wanted nothing more than someone looking at her the way Neville did this night. Or – well, not just someone looking at her the way he did. Maybe it was more along the lines of him continuing to look at her like that.

She didn’t say something to make this an ugly memory, couldn’t bring herself to. She would instead lock it away safely to make sure no one else could get close to it, so no one would be able to ruin it and then she would leave this all behind her and return to what everything expected her to be. She already hated it, felt it coil in her stomach like a metaphorical snake, ready to bite and hurt, but it was what needed to be done.

Despite her resolution she couldn’t just leave. Taking the step she took back only a minute ago closer again she placed the softest hint of a kiss onto Nevilles trembling lips, willing the feeling to stay with her, far into the bleak future that lay ahead of her.  
Then she left.  
She only noticed the scent of Christmas long after she entered the darkness of the dungeons.

**Author's Note:**

> I consider writing a sequel, but it depends if there are people who like reading about these darlings.


End file.
